


Blindsided

by TruebornAlpha



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Betrayal, Blindness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Werewolf AU, Werewolf Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-28 13:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: Shiro tightened his grip, claws springing from his fingers as the weight pushed him back against the ground to settle over his hips. He kissed until he couldn’t breathe, head spinning with need and grief as he cut deep with his claws. Warmth spilled over Shiro’s fingers as the man above him froze. Blood tainted their kiss as Shiro drank down his pain, knowing without seeing the look of wide-eyed betrayal.“Keith…”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo!

Shiro wiped the blood from his face and snarled, fangs bared against his lips. The crowd roared around him. Their voices echoed from the shadows, left invisible beyond the spotlight’s glare. Faceless and cruel, Shiro let them stir the rage inside of him. They were hungry for violence and their call was infectious. He closed his eyes as it washed over him, letting go of his control and embracing the simple, primal need to survive. To kill.

His enemy circled at the other side of the ring. The hulking and powerful beast might have once been a man, but even at his best, Shiro’d struggled with seeing their pasts. He was bigger than Shiro, human features half transformed into something animalistic and horrifying. Drool dripped from his muzzle to the sand floor as he peeled back his lips, and Shiro felt his own hackles rise in response. The shouting drifted into the distance, falling away as the world narrowed down to the two of them.

When the larger wolf moved, Shiro was ready. He launched himself to the side, more agile than his opponent even when his tired muscles demanded that he stop. He raked his claws down his enemy’s side and blood splattered the sand as the crowd screamed for more. The creature bellowed, enraged as it charged at Shiro and slammed him down into the dirt with the full weight of his body.

There were claws in his side, cutting like knives through flesh and cloth, and Shiro howled. He brought his knee up, trying to break through the monster’s grip, his arm raised in defense, pressed against the beast’s jugular. He could feel gold melting into his eyes, the pain burning through his nerves like he was on fire as he screamed.

With a burst of desperation, he let go. His opponent lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the flesh of Shiro’s shoulder, just like he’d expected. Wolves always went for the kill. The pain was excruciating, but Shiro didn’t shy away. With his one good arm, he buried his claws in the other fighter’s nape and tore through with all the strength he could muster. Skin split into ribbons in a spray of gore. Shiro refused to let go, even as his opponent choked on his own blood and the light fled from his eyes.

He pushed off a corpse, and the arena cheered for him, drowning out the world with a name that wasn’t his, a name they gave him.  _Slayer_. A mockery of the practice, just one more thing they’d taken and twisted. On the far end of field, the heavy metal gates opened slowly and power crackled in the shadows. Shiro stilled as hooded figures walked into the field, weapons sizzling with vibrant blue. The crowd were still cheering as electricity coursed through Shiro’s veins and a noose slid around his neck.  

 

* * *

 

Gentle hands. Soft sheets. Ice on his brow and silk against his wrists. 

“ _Don’t move too much. You’ll make it worse.”_ Scolding without any heat, weighed down with too much concern, and Shiro smiled. Why did it hurt to smile? He couldn’t stop crying.

Laughter. Frustration, but sweet frustration. There was a familiar weight across his chest, a calloused hand against his cheek, guiding him in, closer,  _closer._  

He let himself surrender, pulled down into warmth and comfort, so desperate for any touch that didn’t hurt. Shiro tried to speak, a name caught on his lips, but he was shushed with breathy laugh that ghosted over his skin.

“ _You always push too hard, don’t you know anything about defending yourself?”_  The voice teased as Shiro tried to find it, straining against the gentle hands to taste the words. “ _What are you without me to take care of you?”_

 _“Nothing. I’m nothing.”_ The answer came too quickly as Shiro found his mouth once more, sweet and slick as he slipped between parted lips. It left Shiro groaning as another tear streaked down his scarred cheek, deepening the kiss with a growing hunger.  _I miss you._

Shiro tightened his grip, claws springing from his fingers as the weight pushed him back against the ground to settle over his hips. He kissed until he couldn’t breathe, head spinning with need and grief as he cut deep with his claws. Warmth spilled over Shiro’s fingers as the man above him froze. Blood tainted their kiss as Shiro drank down his pain, knowing without seeing the look of wide-eyed betrayal. 

“Keith…”

He woke in a cold sweat.

Someone was yelling. There were tight bands around his shoulders, his sides, pushing him down, choking him. He was shaking, so violently he was too afraid to move, terrified in a bone-deep, instinctive way that left every word inadequate.

“If he doesn’t… stable-”

“- poisoned blood-”

Voices blended together in an incomprehensible mess. He should have understood them, but every syllable was harsh against his ears, and Shiro shrunk back. This was wrong. Fighting in the arena was supposed to protect him. They kept him strung up and bound like an animal, but they would have done that anyway. He earned his solitude with savagery, a respite away from the other prisoners and their fears and anger.

Something chemical and sharp filled his nose, before being smothered completely until Shiro couldn’t tell anything apart. Chains tightened. He was yanked to his feet, but his legs couldn’t bare his weight. They dragged across the stone floor, his arm dangling weakly in his restraints, twisting in his socket, and Shiro sobbed. It was like his skin had been scrubbed raw and every nerve screamed in agony.

“It’s the rot, poor mutt.” Stubby fingers grabbed him by the jaw, and in an instant, a bright light flooded his vision. Shiro gave a guttural growl, shying away like he’d been hit.

“He’s a goner, no need waste space.” The voice snarled in his ear, and Shiro couldn’t resist as he was dragged along the floor. He tried to plead, to fight, anything to keep them from taking him. His arm was weighed down with shackles, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He’d done everything he could to survive, it couldn’t end like this! He was dropped hard on the slimy, cold stone floor as the man beside him gave a strangled cry. There was a gurgling noise and the sound of a heavy weight hitting the ground.

He must have slipped into unconsciousness, seconds skittering away. There was a scuffle, a yelp. Everything felt so distant and muted through the pain that wracked his body. Shiro tried to open his eyes, but the light burned and tears streamed down his face.

Hands yanked at his rags until he was sitting up. Shiro tried to speak, but his tongue felt too big for his mouth and all he could do was mumble incoherently.

“I need you to stand.” A new voice whispered in his ear. “You can lean on me and I’ll get you out, but I can’t carry you. You have to stand!”

Shiro groped blindly as he tried to shove the other man off, panic threatening to drown him. Not like this. His fingertips sharpened into claws as the shift took him, limbs twisting and bones snapping and reforming. Shiro’s body bowed in anguish, a scream tearing itself from his bloody mouth.

Then there was warmth against him. It stoked his fever, left him burning from the inside out. Someone’s heartbeat was hammering in his ear, frantic like a scared rabbit’s, and Shiro couldn’t tell if it belonged to him or his savior but he felt it resonating through his veins, rippling through his blood. A heavy weight draped across his shoulders, its scent as heady as any drug, dull then piercing in every other moment. 

He walked.

He didn’t know how far he got. It was a struggle before they even started. His steps were slow and uneven, breathing labored. Too often he slipped, but there was always someone there to catch him. The ground beneath his feet tilted and sifted like sand. His head was pounding, every noise magnified, every sight and sound sharpened until it hurt deep behind his eyes. Shiro didn’t know how long he’d last, he couldn’t go on.

“You have to. We’re almost there. You can’t give up now.”

“Please…”

His knees buckled. He was falling.

_“I’m sorry.”_

It was the last thing he heard before he slipped out of consciousness.

 

* * *

 

There was a boat. Shiro was sure there was a boat, he could feel it pitching beneath him as he lay curled and miserable. Or maybe the swaying was an old wagon, hitting every bump in the road. Whatever it was that made the world spin, he groped wildly for the wooden edge of whatever he was on and retched. Then there was darkness again.

He woke again when something cool was held to his cracked lips and Shiro gulped down the water greedily, ignoring the protests of his stomach.

“Slow down, just take a little at a time.” A voice said as water dripped down Shiro’s chin and he gasped for breath.

“Where am I?” He croaked. “Who are you?”

“You’re free, for the moment. And I’m someone who’s trying to keep you that way.”

This was a trap, it had to be. The guards liked to play with the prisoners when they were bored, sick psychotic games designed to break them in ways that could never heal. A taste of hope, enough to nurse the dying flame of life back inside of them only for it to be taken away so they could be beaten for their transgressions. Another decade added to their sentences. Shiro had volunteered for the pit, he paid his due in blood. Why would they torture him too?

“I need to go back.” Shiro rasped as the unseen voice gave a short, bitter bark of laughter.

“You’re not going back to that place. You’re free, don’t you understand?”

It was safer not to answer.

He could have been in a dream, if not for the lingering ache that clung to his bones. It was as if he experienced every sensation through a haze of fog, interspersed with moments of vibrancy that left him nauseous. The man was speaking again, but Shiro couldn’t make out his words. The cup was pressed against his lips. He drank down eagerly, but when the figure moved away, his footsteps echoed like crashing tiles. Shiro shrunk back, curling into himself.

A cloth rested over his eyes, not tight but secure. It took Shiro two tries to move. His arm was unbound, and he reached up. 

“NO!”

The warning came just a moment too late. A scream caught in Shiro’s throat. It was like a fire had been lit behind his eyelids, its heat burning through his retinas, and he didn’t know how to make it stop. He dug his nails into his palm, fist pressing against his socket. It was the only way to stop him from clawing his own eyes out.

“What’s happening?” He cried, voice catching on each word. “I can’t. I can’t…”

A clamor rose around him, the crash of metal and stone, then a gentle caress moved over his wrist, urging it away without force. At each fingertip dragged claws, but they never broke skin. Never even left a mark.

“It’s okay now. The lamps are off. It’s okay. Shiro, please.”

It had been a long time since anyone had called him that. His name more than anything coaxed his obedience. Warily, he lowered his hand and opened his eyes. In the distance, moonlight shone through gauzy curtains. Above him watched a pair of bright blue eyes. Then they started to blur as pain crept in, and Shiro turned away.

“What’s happening?” He ground out, refusing to comprehend his ordeal. After everything he’d lost, he couldn’t lose this, too.

“There are very few ways to weaken a shifter. I had to use something… It was the only way to get you out. I’m sorry.”

“What did you do to me?” Shiro snarled, tears streaming down his face as his eyes burned from the too-bright light. The change rippled along his body, the animal in his veins responding to his rage and confusion, demanding to be free. “Who  _are_  you?!”

“Relax, breathe. It’s going to be okay.” The cool cloth pressed against his eyes and blocked out the accursed light. The man was unafraid of his inhuman curse, moving closer instead of running like any sane person would have. “You can call me Akira. I had to use something to make them think you were sick, but it distorts your senses. Can you tell I’m whispering?”

Each word was almost painfully loud, scraping against the inside of his skull and Shiro shook his head. No wonder he felt so raw. The lightest breeze felt like it was cutting his skin from his body in layers, there were so many scents that he couldn’t pull them apart. 

“When will it stop?”

“Soon, I hope. It’ll work out of your system in a week, maybe two. If we’re lucky, there won’t be any physical damage. Until then, just try to rest and we’ll keep your eyes closed.” The gentle hands lingered around his face, brushing almost hesitantly through his hair. Shiro shivered at the touch, oversensitive to each caress and unused to kindness.  _If_ they were lucky. He hadn’t had any kind of luck except bad. If the pattern held true, he might actually go blind or worse, be stuck like this where ever sound, every touch, every dim glow of light was enough to overwhelm him.

“Why?”

The hands paused before the man sat back and pulled away. Shiro could hear the rustling as he stood and moved to the other side of the room. “We heard you were a shifter. We help our own.”

A laugh rumbled through Shiro’s chest, but it ground like shards of broken glass against his ribs. _Then you should’ve come sooner. You could’ve saved more of them._

He breathed in deep, turning into his cot and told himself this was better. He could find a way past this somehow, once he could see, if he could get that far.

“Who’s Keith?” The question startled Shiro out of his reverie, in that same, careful voice Akira had used for most of the evening. “When you were sleeping you called out…”

“No one.” Shiro snapped, and lowered his head, as if in apology. It was a name that meant only nightmares and betrayal. He could feel the ghostly memory of a kiss on his lips, his skin tingling from phantom touch. It was like a sharp blade twisted between his ribs as Shiro’s teeth sharpened into fangs, his rage bleeding through the pain. “He made me a monster.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“Stop fighting, you’re just going to make it worse.”_  Keith scolded, hands warm against Shiro’s icy skin. They burned, melting away Shiro’s resistance as he left molten kisses across his jaw. The hunger inside of Shiro flared to match each teasing kiss, a growl bubbling up from his chest. Inhuman. Hungry. He forced it back down again as laughter filled his ears. “ _You’re always so damn difficult.”_

_“I thought that was you.”_  Shiro retorted, but he couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. Keith noticed it right away, he always noticed too much, and leaned forward to capture it. He swallowed down Shiro’s moan, claiming him slowly and irresistibly.

_“Maybe.”_ Keith smirked as Shiro’s hands tightened around his waist, hips canting together with an eager rhythm.  _“Aren’t you supposed to be the patient one?”_

_“Shut up.”_  Shiro growled as Keith laughed again, ready to throw patience and caution to the wind. They pushed and pulled, each rising to the other’s challenge, teasing out each strangled groan and gasping laugh until Shiro could barely think. The only thing that mattered was the flush on Keith’s cheeks, the dazed brightness in his eyes, and that shy secret smile Keith saved just for him.

Snow crunched beneath their feet, the smell of salt high on the breeze with the coming tide. Their freedom lay tied up nearby. They were almost there, and could’ve been there faster if they weren’t so distracted by each other. But they had to hurry. Shiro dragged Keith along, though it took all of his willpower to turn away.

“ _He’s over here!”_

The impact punched through his ribs before the pain could register, and the blade slid deeper, twisting in his chest. Silver-edged and flame-hardened, the weapon of a Slayer. He could feel Keith’s breath at the back of his nape, his claws dragging innocently across Shiro’s belly. Heavy boots marched behind him as the guardsmen arrived, the jangle of manacles at their hips.

_“Stop fighting, you’re just going to make it worse.”_

Shiro didn’t wake screaming, but it was a close thing. He opened his eyes to darkness. After all this time it was still disorienting. For a moment, he wanted to rip off his blindfold, like that could shake off the fever that still dogged his heels. Shiro’d made that mistake enough times to stop trying.

“Shiro?” The syllables broke off, starting as a murmur and rising in pitch even if Shiro understood that Akira hadn’t screamed his name.

Shiro breathed in deeply, willing himself to forget the remnants of a memory and nightmare. It took more time than he would’ve liked. “I’m fine.”

Clumsily, he pushed himself up on his cot, pointedly aware of the way fabric shifted beneath his back, bunching up his shirt. It wasn’t as jarring as it had been, but it was far from pleasant. He worked slowly, until he could finally sit up with his back propped against the wall, and he turned to face where he thought Akira was. The shifter approached immediately.

“It’s alright.”

“I said I’m fine.” Shiro snapped, waving his hand blindly. He didn’t mean to knock the cup from Akira’s hands. In fell with a clatter, spilling water all over the cold wooden floor. He was immediately apologetic, groping for something to help clean as Akira shoo’d him away and sopped up the mess with a rag. “I’m sorry, I-I…”

“I’ve got this, just rest.” Akira’s voice scraped across Shiro’s oversensitive ears, low and resigned. 

This was infuriating. Shiro balled his fist in his threadbare sheets and fought down the rising shift that always seemed to lurk just under his skin, ready to tear his humanity away from him. There’d been a time when he’d been something more than this, when he had a holy purpose and dedicated his life to something more than just himself. He’d been a soldier and a leader, defending his home and the innocent with trusted friends at his back. Now, he was a broken monster, too helpless to even defend himself, blind and weak and in the care of another monster who thought they shared enough kinship to keep Shiro alive.

“It’s not getting better, is it?” He asked.

“It’s still early, it takes time to work through your system and you were already injured. You just need more rest.” Akira lied smoothly, but Shiro could almost feel the skip of the shifter’s heart giving it all away. 

“But it’s not even starting to fade. I might be stuck like this.”

The shifter didn’t answer, just finished cleaning and refilled the cup before pressing it into Shiro’s hand. “Drink. If it stays down, I can get you something to eat.”

Shiro listened to him walk away, trying to pick apart the sounds of Akira shuffling on the other end of the room. He was stubbornly determined to beat the poison in his veins, like it would fade if he just focused enough. All he won for his efforts was a migraine, and the gnawing fear that Akira had left completely.

“Why did you help me?” He asked, and couldn’t determine the strength of his own voice.

His answer was an eerie silence, punctured only by the wind outside. Shiro wondered if he’d left already, and his grip tightened around the little cup.

“It’s the right thing to do.” Akira’s voice came from every direction. Then there was a hand on Shiro’s knee, grounding him, and the smell of something warm and savory left his eyes watering. “You’re like us now.”

Shiro kept himself from leaning into the touch, but just barely, and wrapped his hands around the bowl. The heat almost burned his palms, even that much enough to send pain racing along his nerves. But he didn’t set the bowl down, welcoming the pain to help focus his thoughts. 

“I’m not like you.” The words held a bit more of a growl than he meant. “If you know who I am, then you know I was a Slayer. I hunted down your kind.”

“And now you’re one of us.” The voice was still distorted, but Shiro was sure he heard its dry snark. “It doesn’t matter what you were, you didn’t deserve to be in that place.”

“You don’t care that I spent my life learning to hunt you?”

Akira spoke with strained control, each word carefully chosen. “The Slayers sent you to kill Keith, but you didn’t.”

“No.” Shiro was surprised Akira could have known.

“I don’t care that you were a Slayer, what matters is what you do.” Akira growled, hackles rising. “Though it would have been better off if you’d just killed Keith out on the snow when you met him.”

Shiro quieted, looking back towards his meal. It was heavy in his hand. He brought his bowl up, gingerly taking a sip and swallowed the words that bubbled up from his chest to defend Keith, unnerved by the strength of them. The edge of his cot dipped, and Shiro held his breath, wondering how long the divide between them could last. Akira didn’t move any closer, but he was always there.

Days passed, even if Shiro couldn’t see them. His body slowly knit itself back together, the wounds from his last fight healing even as the poison lingered deep in his bones. Every touch was magnified, every sound left his head aching, and even the smallest glimmer of light was blindingly bright and left his eyes tearing. But the agony was no longer a constant. It was the first sign that his torment wasn’t eternal, and Shiro welcomed it readily.

Akira departed in the mornings with a breeze of freezing air as he slipped outside for hours on end, leaving Shiro in the silent darkness of their warm room. He’d return hours later with food gathered and hunted, quietly cooking his catch and helping Shiro eat. It was frustratingly helpless, a mockery of the Slayer he’d once been and the warrior he’d prided himself on becoming, but Shiro had lost any right to pride long ago.

 

* * *

 

Silence settled over their routine and in the way, it was worse. Too many unspoken questions festered, the weight of the past and present combining until Shiro was sure he would break. Akira moved through the room as quietly as he could, but Shiro’s hand shot out blindly and grabbed the other man’s arm.

“You should just go. You’ve gotten me out, you put me back together again. The longer you stay here, the more likely the guardsmen or the Slayers will find you. You don’t need to risk yourself for me.”

He felt Akira make to withdraw, but in the end, he didn’t pull away. “I’m repaying a debt. One of our kind got you falsely imprisoned, it’s our responsibility to set you free.”

“It’s not your debt to pay.”

“It’s a debt that shouldn’t exist at all, if it wasn’t for that traitorous coward.” Akira pulled away sharply, his pace rushed as he walked away. He seemed frustrated. Then again, Shiro could’ve just been projecting, because Keith was… Complicated. It hadn’t been an argument in the typical sense, yet Shiro still felt like he’d lost one. He pulled his blankets higher, gritting his teeth. He was fine.

Then footsteps approached, and something in Shiro’s chest unwound. Akira’s hand found his.

“I’m going to redo your bandages.”

It had been a while since he’d needed bandages. It took a lot to hurt a shifter, and even more to make the injuries stick. In the beginning, he’d wanted to be suspicious of Akira, but Shiro couldn’t imagine a scam that was worth this much effort.

He sighed, but nodded, letting Akira undo the buttons on his shirt. He focused on his pulse, listening to it skitter and scream as his ears betrayed him. Akira never wanted to be anything but hopeful.

“Why are you so hell bent on going back to that place?” The shifter asked gruffly. “You never want me to help you.”

The answer caught in Shiro’s teeth and he flinched as the bandages were peeled from his skin. “I betrayed my order, I deserve to be punished.”

“You left a bunch of killers who hunt down innocent shifters, I don’t think you need to be in prison for that.” Akira drawled and Shiro could feel anger rising like a heat pressing against the inside of his skull.

“They were my family! They risked their lives to save people and I betrayed them, don’t you understand?” He snarled, shoving Akira away. “I let a shifter get into my head and I was too weak to see the lies. I let him infect me rather than dying honorably because I was afraid to die alone, and in the end, he turned on me the way shifters always do. I was an idiot to trust him, I deserve this and worse.” Hatred welled in his chest, thick and burning, stealing away Shiro’s ability to breathe. But as much as he hated Keith, he hated himself even more. A shifter was selfish and cruel, he’d known that all his life. It was why the Slayers existed and why the shifters needed to be hunted. And yet…

Shiro shook his head, trying to chase away the gentler memories that tried to chip away at his rage. Keith had smiled and all the years of Shiro’s training had melted away. He’d been kind when he had no reason to be, saving his life after Shiro had lost his arm and giving purpose back to a ruined soldier who’d never be able to rejoin the Slayers after such a debilitating injury. He’d given Shiro hope again and let Shiro dream of a new future for the first time in his life.

Before yanking it all away again, mocking how easily Shiro had been manipulated.

“Always?” Akira whispered.

Shiro didn’t answer.

“Then why  _didn’t_  you kill him when you first found him?” Akira asked after a beat, smoothing down the clean linen against Shiro’s wounds.

Shiro wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. “They said he was killing humans. I proved he was innocent. I wasn’t going to kill an innocent, even a shifter.”

“And I’m not going to let you die, no matter how much you hate yourself.”

Akira adjusted the last of his bandages, his hand lingering over the gash across Shiro’s chest. Shiro didn’t need to see them to remember the marks the arena had left. When he pulled away, Shiro exhaled. It was the only way he could stop himself from reaching out and asking him to stay.

 

* * *

 

Shiro waited all day, but it was only when the air grew colder and Akira slipped out of the room that he realized he’d been waiting for a chance to say something. He tucked his hands into a fist, trying to hide the way it trembled, his heart hammering in his ribs.

Then for the first time in days, he took off his blindfold.

Shiro didn’t open his eyes immediately, his blood racing through his ears. When he did, it was in increments, his hand over his brow. Only shadows greeted him. The room was as dark as tomb, and Shiro’s stomach plummeted, certain that there was  _nothing_.

Then, the outline of images began to form. A wave of nausea rushed over him, a sickening relief.

He got to his feet, legs stiff but sure, the scratch of fabric against his skin not enough to keep him trapped. Everything was different, made alien in the dim light, but nothing could have been more welcome.

Shiro got two steps before the door opened. His entire body tensed, spine ramrod straight, and Akira cried out. “Shiro!”

He was a silhouette against the moonlight, surrounded by a halo that burned. Shiro shut his eyes, but he could still see the imprint in his blindness. Suddenly there were hands on him, touching but not holding, until Shiro sank against his grip, not wanting to admit how much he’d come to like the way Akira said his name.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The words caught in his throat, twisting into a strangled sort of hiss. “I’m tired of feeling useless. I wanted… I wanted.”

“Come on.” Akira led Shiro back and closed the door behind him, letting the darkness settle back into the room. There was only the faintest glow from the fireplace, hidden to keep the light as dim as possible, and Shiro could barely see anything against the dark. But he  _could_  see.

“I can’t just stay in here doing nothing. Please.” It was like asking had broken something inside of him, real fear showing through the cracks. When he’d lost his arm and had been turned to save his life, Shiro had thought it was the end. But his reckless traitor’s heart had kept him going, fueled by love and hope until he’d believed Keith’s pretty lies about a future. When Keith had stood there and accused him, watching as he’d been dragged off to prison like an animal, it was the pain that gave Shiro strength. Every time he was forced to fight, every time he was torn open and close to death, it was a well-deserved reminder of his own failures and a promise to someday set them right.

But this was a quiet sort of torture and without the pain or purpose, he floundered, drowning in old memories and doubts.

“Will you let me help you?” Akira asked hesitantly and froze as Shiro reached for him, body bowing as if he was being crushed by the weight of his mistakes. Akira shifted in his hands, stroking through Shiro’s hair. The gesture was unexpected and familiar, and something inside of Shiro grieved. His grip eased and he closed his eyes, letting Akira sooth him with a touch that finally didn’t hurt. “You’re a good man, Shiro, nothing’s ever been able to change that. Not the Slayers and their zealotry, not becoming a shifter, not even prison. You’re still a good man.”

“He still turned on me.”

“He’s an idiot,” Akira hissed, full of poison that Shiro hadn’t known he could wield. Yet his touch never faltered, so close that Shiro could feel the warmth of his skin. He leaned forward, his heart on his sleeve and pressed his face into Akira’s shoulder. He smelled like earth and clean sweat, skin still cold from the trek outside, but the throbbing in Shiro’s skull no longer overwhelmed him. It was the sweetest mercy, and Shiro shuddered in relief.

“Is this okay?” Akira’s hand was on his hip, slowly sliding up his back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

_Again_  went unspoken. Forgiveness was easy, almost laughably easy, but he wouldn’t forget, just like he couldn’t forget the first tentative touch of relief.

“It’s okay.” Shiro breathed out. Akira was careful, but Shiro’s whole body shuddered, stoking an old forgotten need within him. It was a simple, primal feeling, an easy need free from the shadows of memory. 

“He left you in there to suffer for his crimes.” Akira’s words were harsh but his hands so gentle. “He turned you and then betrayed you.”

Shiro couldn’t answer, not when Akira’s fingers traced down his sides, lingering along his ribs. He’d tasted that same venom, but it sounded so different when the hate belonged to someone else. “That’s not…”

Akira’s breath hitched, his voice faltering around emotions he felt too deeply. “He never should have met you.”

_No._  The argument waited on the tip of his tongue and Shiro could feel the blood drain out of his face, his treacherous heart skipping a beat. When Akira touched him, cupping his cheek like a lover, it sent a spark across his skin. No matter how much the darkness concealed, he could feel him move closer, then the barest touch of soft lips.

He pulled away slowly. His skin prickled where Akira had touched him. Shiro told himself he didn’t miss him.

Beside him, Akira had gone still. He didn’t reach out again.

“I’m sorry.” The shifter said, and Shiro didn’t know if his senses were playing tricks on him again, but he barely heard him speak.

“Don’t be, it’s just… Keith.”

“But.” Akira’s breath hitched. “You hate him.”

“I love him, too.”

Akira didn’t respond, and when he pulled away, Shiro felt like he was falling.


	3. Chapter 3

Peace was unfamiliar. Shiro had lived his life as a warrior, always on edge and ready for battle. He’d trained with the Slayers since he’d been a child, learning how to track and hunt shifters. In prison, that edge had been honed like a weapon, sleeping lightly and ready to fight at any moment. But here, there was nothing to do except rest and heal and think.

At first, Shiro’s thoughts were dark and plagued with memories, but as the poison faded from his body, Shiro found that his anger faded too. The raw edges of his guilt and hatred eased just enough that he could remember without being dragged down into the darkness. This wasn’t the first time he’d been injured and had his life in the hands of a stranger.

Though the last time, Keith had held his heart as well.

Shiro finally learned they were in a cabin. It was small and quaint, but warm. Over time, he learned its layout, until he could navigate with his limited sight. Shiro started to put things right, cleaning small patches of the room or cooking whatever Akira managed to bring back for the pot. They were small contributions, but Shiro didn’t feel so useless anymore. Akira was still evasive, kind but tense, like he was waiting for something but never spoke about it. He never touched Shiro again after that night.

It must have been frustrating for Akira. Most of their time was still spent in near total darkness. Shiro’d started pushing back the curtains at night, letting a thin ray of moonlight shine through. Sometimes it was still too much, but more and more often, it kept their cabin as bright as Shiro could manage.

It was almost enough to see Akira. He was shorter than Shiro’d expected, but there was little else he knew. He blended into the shadows so seamlessly that only the glow of his eyes his eyes could set him apart. When this was over, Shiro wanted to thank him properly. No matter what happened next, he had his freedom, and he knew who he owed it to.

“Shiro.”

He heard his name through the door, and Shiro turned away, his eyes closed. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Akira slipped in a second later, closing the door immediately behind him.

“We have to go.” 

Shiro could almost taste the panic in the air as Akira started shoving supplies into their packs without explanation. He was on his feet in a moment, reaching out blindly like he could help. If Akira was this afraid, there was no time to waste on words.

Peace was nice, but it always ended too soon.

The door burst open and Shiro forced himself to look at the blurry shape outlined by too-bright light. Akira shoved him back, throwing himself at the intruders, but Shiro refused to stay behind. He snarled, shift ripping along his skin as his fingers sharpened into claws and his fangs lengthened. It was immediately chaos.

“Hold it, don’t let it bite you!” A voice ordered as Shiro charged into the fray. There were too many of them in the small cabin room, but that just meant Shiro didn’t have to see to strike a blow. He could hear Akira growling and snapping, fighting for his life against their captors.

“I want them both restrained now!” Shiro turned towards the sound, his ears ringing. Tears streaming down his cheeks from the glare as he forced himself to focus on the leader.

He was tall and imposing, backlit by moonlight. The shadows across his face hid a massive scar that spread from brow to cheek. Shiro had been there when he’d return from that mission, his sword singing with the blood of fallen beasts. He’d never thought he’d see him again.

Commander Sendak was inscrutable. Behind him, Akira was struggling, but he was outnumbered and overwhelmed, and in the distance, Shiro thought he could hear more approach. The shifter fell to his knees with a cry, and Shiro took an unsteady step forward, the impulse to defend him making the monster in his veins howl. The Commander’s hand was on the hilt of his sword.

Suddenly, a flare of light filled the room. Shiro recoiled.

It was like the figures were outlined in fire, angels or demons etched in light against the darkness behind them. Sendak towered above them all as he held Akira by the throat, lifting the smaller man from his feet. He struggled, legs kicking out and claws digging into Sendak’s arm, but they couldn’t pierce the Slayer’s armor. 

But he wasn’t the reason ice rushed through Shiro’s veins.

“Keith.”

He breathed the word, barely able to speak it. There was no Akira, there never had been, another lie built upon so many. Keith’s struggles were weakening as he choked for air and Shiro moved before he even realized it, slamming his weight into the Commander’s arm to force him to drop his captive. “Let him go!”

“I said restrain him.” Sendak yelled, the sound of drawn steel so loud that Shiro flinched. Hands grabbed at him as Akira choked and coughed, crumpled on the ground.

“Commander.” Someone unfamiliar called out, but he carried his own weight of authority. His features were gaunt and stare sharp. White-blond hair curled around his ears. “These men were apprehended on charges of prison break, they’re under the jurisdiction of the city guardsmen. I want them both taken alive!”

The Commander smiled with too much teeth. “Of course, Ulaz. The Slayers are simply happy to assist our local associates.”

It only made Ulaz scowl. He turned to his men, nodding towards the figure on the ground. “Secure him in the transportation chamber.” He only hesitated when he turned to Shiro, his expression wary. “And your operative, Commander?”

Strong hands cupped the bottom of Shiro’s jaw, forcing him to look up with a cruel jerk. It sent waves of revulsion through him, coring him inside out with a rush of nausea. The Commander didn’t seem to care. “Is there enough humanity left in you to ride in the carriage, Shirogane?”

In the end, he didn’t care for Shiro’s response.

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro didn’t remember much of the trip. His thoughts were as jumbled as the sensations that battered against his frantic senses. All he could do was hold on, his head in his hands, trying to block out as much light and sound as he could.

When they finally stopped, Ulaz surprised him. He was lead into a private office. The lights were deactivated, and nothing but a lone candle lit. It was brighter and noisier than the cabin, but after their journey, it was welcome.

“Your Commander is with your supervisors now.” Ulaz said, approaching Shiro slowly. He had a mug in one hand. It took Shiro a moment to realize it was being offered. “Your circumstances are… quite unique.”

“Who are you?” He croaked. Shiro had dealt with guardsmen as a Slayer, and more recently as a prisoner. This one didn’t stand out.

“Just someone who’s trying to keep the peace without shifters and Slayers tearing my city apart.” The guardsman said dryly. “Doesn’t seem to be working. The Commander is demanding that we turn you both over to them. I’d prefer you go to trial over your jailbreak. There was an interesting… revelation. What can you tell me about him?”

“There’s not much to tell.” Shiro mumbled. The evidence was damning and their odds insurmountable. Somehow, they were at the beginning.

Ulaz watched him, unbothered by the darkness and the company he kept. “Your companion says otherwise. He claims you’re not the one who illegally bit him as he first reported, but that he’s the one that infected you. Is that true?”

Shiro cursed under his breath. He closed his eyes, hand wrapped around the warmth of the mug. An unexpected kindness and a welcome one. He clung to it like it was the only real thing to exist anymore. All this time, it had been Keith. He’d only infected Shiro to save his life, but spreading the disease of lycanthrope was forbidden. The shifter had come back for him, nursed him back to health, stayed by his side. He could have run anywhere and been free, but he came back.

What did that even mean? Forgiveness? Shiro wasn’t sure he could and yet, he remembered the soft touch of Akira’s hands, the hate in his voice when he talked about Keith’s betrayal. Had it been regret? Only one person had the answers for that.

“I need to see him.” Shiro lurched himself to his feet. “You have to show me where he is.”

“I think your Commander would prefer you to wait until he returned.” Ulaz didn’t force him down though. When Shiro refused to relent, he sighed, “Fine. I trust you won’t cause any more trouble.”

Shiro nodded tersely. “Thank you.” 

He passed the mug back into the guardsman’s hands, still startled by the offering of humanity. He’d come to see himself so much as a monster that he assumed everyone else did too.

Or maybe he’d just underestimated the guardsman.

Ulaz helped him through the station, letting Shiro shuffle unsteadily behind him without a word about his injuries. The holding cells were small and dim, far too much like the prison Keith had rescued him from.

They had Keith bound so tightly, they needn’t have put him in a cell. Chains wound around his arms and across his middle. His legs were shackled to the ground, and the iron collar he bore worked better for humiliation than restraint. He looked up when Shiro approached, eyes wide with shock. Maybe fear.

How could he have been so blind, Shiro wondered. He should have known.

“Can you wait outside?” He asked as Ulaz shifted beside him.

“I doubt your Slayer friends would appreciate it if I left the two of you together.”

“It’s not like I can let him out, and I can barely see. You think I’m going to try and run?” Shiro asked sarcastically, earning a scowl from the guardsman but also a reluctant nod.

“I will be right outside of the door, please don’t cause me any more trouble than you already have.” Ulaz warned and Shiro heard the thud of the door pulling shut, leaving him alone in the cells on this side of the bars for once. Keith was stubbornly silent as Shiro forced himself to look at the other men, squinting against the bright glare of the lamplight. He looked broken, a dark smudge curled in exhaustion against his restraints, but undeniably Keith. Shiro couldn’t tell if he had missed the signs or if he’d been denying it to himself.

It was easy to miss what you didn’t want to see.

“Are you going to say anything?” He asked.

“No.”

The single word ignited the rage inside of him and Shiro snarled, curling his hand around one of the bars before shaking them until the whole cell rattled. “That’s it? After everything, you don’t have  _anything_  to say to me? I trusted you, Keith. I-” He bit back the word, refusing to admit to anything else Keith could use to hurt him.

“Is there anything I could say that’d make it better?”

Maybe not, but Keith sounded so infuriatingly calm that Shiro wanted to tear him apart. The shifter turned away from him, or tried to. Every chain rustled whenever he tried to move. They would be strong enough to hold him. Shiro knew from experience. Keith’s shoulders sagged, and he slumped against his cell wall, too tired to even meet Shiro’s gaze. “Everything’s over now. I can’t do anything else for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Shiro bit out. His hand curled around the prison bars, and Keith looked up in surprise. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Keith’s first instinct was to fight, but he buckled under Shiro’s calm, blind stare. Excuses and apologies crowded his tongue, a million ways to beg Shiro for forgiveness. Instead, he stayed silent, letting Shiro judge him and willing to accept his punishment. 

“You came back for me. You could have been on the other side of the world and safe. I didn’t ask you to do that, why did you come back?” For the first time, emotion cracked through Shiro’s voice and Keith wished his hands were free so he could sooth away the pain.

“It’s my fault you were there. I’m the reason you lost everything, I had to try and fix it.”

“And you never told me who you were? If you put me there, why did you even care?”

“Because I love you!” The confession tore itself free before Keith could stop it, bleeding heart held in his hands. “Because I was supposed to keep you safe and I tried, damn it, I tried and I failed you. I couldn’t get you out, they wouldn’t listen to me.” Keith rattled his chains, eyes wild and bright with unshed tears. “You loved me and I couldn’t save you.”

Shiro’s hand rose, as if he could ward off an attack that never came. He’d wanted answers for so long, he wasn’t sure he could trust this one. Especially one he’d hoped for so deeply. It wasn’t fair.

“Imprisoning me wasn’t protecting me.”

Keith fell quiet. Shiro waited and waited, but he wasn’t surprise when the silence held. It didn’t make it hurt any less. Just as he turned to leave, the shifter asked, “Do you remember that day? At the docks.”

Shiro swallowed thickly. It was an old memory, but it had been a good one. It had been snowing all night. It’d been so cold, but they were too distracted by each other to care.  They were supposed to buy safe passage on the first ship out of town, and find a place to rebuild their lives, away from accusations of murder and debilitating fear. Shiro’d been terrified about leaving his order, but Keith had been his strength. “You were supposed to buy tickets. I was getting supplies.”

Keith nodded. He’d shrunk in on himself, figure slumped in defeat, a show of weakness that made Shiro’s bones ache. “There were shifters on the pier. They knew who I was. They knew I’d been framed. They thought… They wouldn’t listen. They were going to kill you, and they- they just wouldn’t listen.” He let out a bitter laugh. Shiro had never heard Keith sound so spiteful. “I thought I was saving you. They’d never reach you if you were with guardsmen, but I thought they’d listen when I recanted.”

Shiro didn’t dare breathe, like if he spoke he would break the spell. But the moment passed. Keith wouldn’t offer any more.

“Keith.” He started, struggling to find his voice. The lies, the betrayals, and now this, it was too much. And Keith still tried to save him. Did he even know that Shiro knew? Did he think Shiro could save him? “What do you want from me?”

Keith sighed.

“I want you to know I’m sorry.”

Hate had eaten away at him until Shiro thought there was nothing left, an emptiness filled with only regret. He opened his mouth, trying to find something to say, anything as he choked on his own heart. The Commander found his voice first.

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” Sendak said, stepping into the room, and Shiro stiffened, every instinct ready to salute his superior. He watched the Commander carefully as he picked his way across the room to stand at the cage door, looking in at their prisoner. “But they always are. Rabid animals that kill and destroy without thought. It manipulated you, took away your humanity. It’s only right that it should be bound at your feet.”

Shiro swallowed hard, keeping silent as the Commander unlocked the door and dragged Keith out to the middle of the stone floor. He wasn’t wrong. Love had been Shiro’s downfall and it would be easy to think Keith said nothing but pretty lies, playing on his weakness to save his own life. But Keith hadn’t asked for anything, not for help or escape. Not even for forgiveness. The shifter lay at the Commander’s feet, head bowed and unmoving, trapped in his chains.

“It took your life away from you.”

“Yes, he did.” Shiro said softly. “I lost everything I had because of him.”

“Not everything.” The Commander turned, clasping a heavy hand to Shiro’s shoulder. “You’re infected, but you were once a Slayer, Shiro. I trained with you. I know your strength and your control. A shifter could never be one of our hunters, but we could take you back. Find a different place for you. You could come home again.”

_Home._ Hope bloomed in Shiro’s ruined chest, something he’d never let himself even dream of. He might never regain everything, but he would be among his people, fighting for the cause he’d dedicated his entire life to, making a difference. He ached with the need for familiar lands and for family he thought he’d never see again.

“Thank you,” Shiro whispered, barely believing his good fortune. This was a chance at redemption. It’d been impossible for so long, he hadn’t dared even imagining it. The Commander had always been a harsh man, but when he smiled, Shiro thought he almost looked kind.

“You were an asset. I don’t forget loyalty easily.” Then he stepped forward, boot landing squarely between Keith’s shoulder blades. The shifter went down with an aborted yelp, gritting his teeth as he was shoved into the dirt. The Commander ground his foot in. “It concerns me now, to think that these beasts could have swayed your resolve. I need to know where those loyalties lie.”

Keith snarled, bucking against him, but he couldn’t get enough leverage. “You bastard!”

Shiro didn’t move to stop the Commander as he ground his boot into Keith’s back. Just keeping his ragged breathing steady took all of his control. “He didn’t kill anyone. You sent me to hunt a shifter who hadn’t done anything wrong.”

“It’s a shifter!” The Commander growled each word. “It’s only a matter of time until they turn, it’s what they do. They’re animals, Shiro, not human. You can’t give them human reason and conscience, it’s why we exist. We’re the only thing that keeps these beasts from overrunning the country. No one is going to be safe until we hunt every last one of them down. You know their deception better than anyone.”

He pulled a long knife from his belt and pressed it into Shiro’s hand, curling his hands over the hilt. “This is your justice. This is where you prove that even if you’re infected, you’re still human. I know you’ve been waiting a long time for this. Kill him, and we can go home.”

The Commander pulled back with a smile and a look of almost pride as Shiro hefted the weight of the dagger. The Commander called it justice, but it felt more like revenge, an end to that rage that threatened to consume him. A way to put his mistakes behind him and finally go home again.

“It’s okay, Shiro.” Keith whispered, bloodstained mouth quirking into a fragile smile. “I’m ready. It’s okay.”

In that moment, Shiro hated him.

The Commander never doubted Shiro. That was his first mistake. His next was giving him a blade.

Shiro never hesitated. He lunged forward, catching the Slayer off-guard. The hilt of the knife jabbed into his throat, cutting off any warning he could have imagined before he had the chance to breathe, and Shiro twisted his around, bringing his closed fist into the side of his former mentor’s head and slamming him into the wall.

He wasn’t as polished with his left, but the past few months had given him deadly practice. What strength and speed the poison had stolen, the beast in his veins roared to return. Shiro could feel his fangs slipping past his lips, his ears elongating and sharpening as his claws grew around his weapon. A weapon he thought he’d been born to wield. He had to be wary of its blade now. It was silver-edged.

The Commander crumpled to the ground, stone chipped along the wall where he’d crashed. Keith was staring at Shiro like he’d never seen him before.

Shiro got to his knees so quickly, the world spun, but he tore through Keith’s chains with more desperation than finesse. “We don’t have much time. I doubt the guardsmen will give us privacy for long.”

“Why?” Keith croaked as his bonds fell away. He groped for Shiro who helped him to his feet, the two shifters clinging to each other to keep each other standing. The silver edged dagger clattered to the floor as Shiro held him.

He closed his eyes.

Shiro could hear the tremble in Keith’s voice, that same crushing guilt that had weighed so heavily on Akira. He could feel the flush of his skin as heat crept through their touch, the familiar scent of him. He listened to their racing heartbeats, the truth always there if he’d only paid attention. What he was, what he’d become, what he wanted more than anything else. It was so clear now.

This could be home. When he was ready.

“Because I love you too.”

Keith’s expression crumbled, and he buried his face in Shiro’s shoulder, stifling a cry that sounded too much like a sob. He held on too tightly, left desperate in his relief as his control crumbled around him, but it was worth it just to hold Keith again.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Keith promised, cradling Shiro’s face in his hands. This time, Shiro believed him.

Keith dragged Sendak into a cell with one hand and locked him in, and together they slipped out a service window too high for most humans to even notice. They would have to run. It was their word against Sendak’s, and there was no telling how deep the corruption spread through the Slayers. There was no guarantee that other shifters would welcome them either.

But they would have each other and they would be free. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be a start.

Shiro could see the way.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Dans [here.](http://itdans.tumblr.com/)  
> Rune's tumblr is [here](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/) and our joint twitter is [here.](http://twitter.com/runicscribbles)
> 
> Please comment if you enjoyed! Come say hello. :)


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